Four Against Humanity Corrupted
by Cryptomiser
Summary: All infected types are from the Left 4 Dead series. Four people of different backgrounds challenge the streets and wilderness against hordes of zombies to find an evacuation point where the military will get them away from the screaming monstrosities.


Why the hell did they run through that corridor? Now Rhyzel was injured, covered in what was left of some Boomer puke, and dead zombies were everywhere. And Fresh was complaining about hearing a Smoker outside. Everyone was holed in for now, but it was a matter of time before they came. Oi, this was going to be a disaster. Looking around the small room, Cody searched for anything useful to cover Jim's wounds. Cynthia was constantly talking to herself about how they were gonna be okay. Sounded like a Jockey's laughter to Cody. He sighed. This apocalypse thing was hard on everyone.

To explain each member in detail, let's start with Cody. Cody is the sensible one in the group. He thinks straight, has the best ideas, and is generally the one the group turns to for directions. He's a bit thin though, and needs to be protected. He more than makes up for it with his brains and resourcefulness. His short blonde hair was typically covered by a black beanie, and he was a skater before the zombies came. He wore a bright orange tee with a black skull on the design, and black jeans. His shoes, of course, were skating shoes for the grip.

Next is Rhyzel. Rhyzel is a big foreign man who speaks in broken English. He's the strongest of the group, and claims to hail from India. His skin was a light brown color, his hair cropped extremely short. He was well-defined in muscle and tone, and was as big as a truck. He had a very laid back attitude, and didn't seem to mind his injuries so much as the rest of the group. He had removed his shirt some time ago, but he wore beige dress pants, and a ruby-encrusted necklace around his neck.

Up comes Fresh. Fresh's real name is Rick Rogers. He calls himself Fresh Ice Tee, as he's a pimp. Err, well, was a pimp. His skin is a very dark tone, and he always wears a bright white suit. He's always afraid the zombies are going to get him, and has panic attacks often. Like right now, he was going on about hearing a smoker, and them having to leave. He is a recent addition to the group, and doesn't know as much about the infected as the rest of them. He was always smoking. Not little cigarettes, mind you, but huge cigars. Constantly. No one knew where he got them from either.

Finally was Cynthia. A pale girl, and a bit on the light side. She wore a bright blue girl's tee with a belt around her waist. It wasn't through the loops, it just sat on her waist. No one knew how it stayed there all the time. Her pants were blue jeans. Her blonde hair was full and it ran over her shoulders in gorgeous bangs. She was raised on a farm, and she knew how to use guns exceedingly well. Her accent was a bit Texan to boot.

Cody finally found some decently clean cloth to hold Rhyzel's worse-off scratches down until he was able to move better. Patching them on, he began to speak to Rhyzel.

"The hell were you thinking? You hit a Boomer with a damn axe..." Cody disciplined him, but it was for his own good.

"Am sorry... did not see large body until was too late..." Rhyzel was a big cuddly bear at best, but he was one hell of a fighter.

"You're lucky we got through this... everyone else alright?" He asked again, from an earlier point in time. "We need to move soon, they'll keep coming as long as this puke is all over the place."

"Am fine, let us go," Rhyzel assured him once the bandages were on.

"You sure you can walk? They were all over you, man," Cody might be a bit harsh, but he deffinatly cared about the group.

"Said, am fine, let's go," he stood, and stumbled toward the door before regaining his balance.

Cody looked back to the rest of them, "Get up everyone, we're leaving." Fresh stood up, still a little jittery.

"Man, I ain't never seen shit like that... They was so many of them damn undead. I'll be glad to get outta here."

"Yea... we'll be fine right? We'll get to the evac and be fine, right?" Cynthia asked, lifting her rifle to her side cautiously.

"We'll be fine. If we can handle that, there's nothing we can't handle," Cody assured the group, looking out the room for more zombies. "Looks like most of the ones in the vicinity are gone... we killed 'em when the Boomer showed up. Careful Rye, there may still be some left on you," Cody had assigned Rhyzel a nickname: Rye. It was easier than calling him Rhyzel all of the time. "Better move before they come back, or we're dead meat."

The Boomers in question were large, grotesque zombies. They looked like really overweight fat people. They had several boils across their bellies, which stuck out through whatever clothes they wore. They would puke on the humans instead of attack them, and this disgusting bile appeared to do nothing except impair vision for a bit. However, the chemical properties of it attracted the horde somehow. The horde being lesser infected, basically humans with an appetite for flesh. Many of them would run in from all direction to get at the meal the Boomer had sprayed all over. It was called a Boomer, however, because it would explode when struck, spraying it's intoxicating stomach fluids all over the floor, attracting more zombies.

Once they were all out the door, Cody took the lead. Fresh headed the rear. "I'm tellin' you, I can hear one of them out there... growlin' an' shit," he warned the group, breathing a little too deeply. "Yea, then let's move so it doesn't kill us," Cody ordered, moving toward the exit of the building they were in. He knew it was a stupid idea to come in here... closed space, dark, perfect for getting murdered. He spit on the ground in disgust at his poor decision. Leaving the building, a few of the regular horde stood poised in some fashion or another. "Get 'em!" Was all he had to say before the group opened fire.

The few horde went down easily, but their screams attracted bigger things. Cody upped his rifle, letting a "Shit," escape his lips. He could hear it, a loud roaring... Charger. As if to confirm his thoughts, Fresh screamed it, "Charger man, watch out!" The thing began to roar loudly before rushing at them. It missed the group due to having ample warning and they had moved from its path. The team unloaded on it as it tried to rush them again. Rhyzel pulled out his hatchet and rammed it into the thing's head before it fell to the ground at his feet. "Close one, right?" He said in his broken tongue, sighing in relief.

Chargers were larger variations of the infected. The strain of their mutation had caused their right arm to grow grotesquely large and awfully calloused. Well, it could be the left arm too, probably depends on preference when alive. Either way, the other arm would shrink to become very tiny, and mostly useless. They would roar as they charged their victim, and then smash them into the ground with their profusely large arm until they died.

"Yea, really close... let's keep going... before more come," Cody gave an elongated breath. They made their way through the little town they were in more cautiously now. Who knew how the strain could affect other humans? Perhaps there were infected they had never seen. The thought drove him on, not wanting to find out. He growled under his breath, looking through alley-ways and into windows for anything out of the ordinary. Of course... ordinary was hardly a term used to describe anything anymore.

Humanity itself was their enemy, infected by a virus. It made them violent, and attack the ones who were immune and then swiftly devouring them. He noticed something out of the corner of his eye... a lanky zombie... it retreated into the shadows of an alleyway. "Careful, special in that alley," he warned, "Stood up, Smoker or Spitter." The others nodded, watching the way shortly.

Soon enough, a ball of green goo was hurled at them, covering the floor in corrosive acid. "Get away from the green shit! It's green!" Fresh shouted, running away from it. "Damnit, don't get away from the group either, Fresh!" Cody yelled, ushering the others to follow him. He threw a few bullets into the Spitter and she fell over, her acid blocking the alleyway. As if to mock Fresh's poor decision to run, a tongue came from a railing above, and began to drag him in. "Damnit, the Smoker has got me, the Smoker has got me!"

Spitters were tall zombies with an elongated neck. They spat a bile similar to that of the Boomer's. However, their juices stuck to whatever they hit, and were a corrosive acid. It didn't seem to affect the infected at all, however, something about them making them immune. A Smoker was a zombie with a disfigured head, several warty growths engulfed one side of it's face, typically the right side. From these growths came elongated tongues that it could fire from it's cannon-like mouth to wrap around it's target. They would then be dragged in and clawed to death before being devoured. Cody had to respect that they would kill before eating.

Cynthia's turn. She looked up at the Smoker; her rifle was built for sniping, unlike Cody's assault rifle. She aimed down the sight quickly, blasting a shot into the Smoker's head. It dropped Fresh to the ground, where he pulled out his two pistols and began to look for more. "Thanks girly, thought I was a goner..."

"No problem. We'll get through this." Cynthia tried to assure herself a lot that they would. Cody turned to the two, looking at Fresh. Rye was next to him, "Fresh, I know you've got street cred or whatever, but this is not a good place to run off alone... nowhere is, stay with the group."

Fresh threw his hand into the air submissively. "Sorry, man, just had a panic attack. Promise ya it won't happen again."

"Just worried about you, let's get out of here," Cody sighed. Not a good day. The only thing that could make this worse was a Tank or two.

They hadn't seen any tanks yet, but they were worth mentioning. Tanks were large zombies, basically like The Hulk, but without the green. They were ruthless and cared even less about their fellow infected than other zombies. They would smash through anything, and destroy anyone. Their skin was tougher, and they were strong enough to tip a semi. It would probably take several clips to get through one, and it still wouldn't die until you unloaded even more.

For another good while, things were quiet. Then they heard it... a Witch. Witches were strong infected as well, but not as strong as the Tank. However, they weren't violent as the other infected tended to be. They'd rather enjoy a good cry, the warning noise that one was near. Not even other infected trekked near the Witch; she would tear them apart with her razor-sharp claws as well. Those claws were her only mutation, she looks awfully human otherwise.

"Light's off... it's a Witch," Cody warned, turning his flashlight off.

"What's it gonna do, cry on me?" Fresh joked, new to the group.

"She'll cut you, just listen to me," Cody was trying not to raise his voice.

"Alright, man, cool it. We gotta stay quiet, too, right?" He asked, hushing his voice as well.

"Yea... no communication until we're past her."

They moved swiftly, their footsteps silent underneath the wailing of the witch. They got past her quickly, and Cody sighed. "Good job, guys," then he heard a maniacal laughter. "Jockey, get away from the witch! Run!" he ordered, taking off in another direction. Jockeys were very lanky infected that sat on all fours. They looked sort of like fleshy orangutans. They laughed like mad men all the time, just instinct to do so. This gave them away easily. Jockeys leap at their target, and then cling to their shoulders. They use their weight to "steer" their victim into more danger, essentially controlling them. In this case, it would know to send them right to the witch.

They leaped over a parking structure, one of those small ones that were there so you didn't run into someone's car, one by one. The laughter had died down by now. They were safe from it for a bit. Cody leaned against a wall near the store they were in front of now. He fell to the ground in a slump, letting out a relieved sigh. "Well… I think we're safe for a bit… let's rest," he advised, his head turning to look at the group. Fresh was the first to comply, obviously. He sat down on the ground and leaned back, using his arms as support so he didn't fall backwards. Rhyzel followed suit, sitting down cross-legged, his white muscle shirt over his shoulder. Cynthia sat likewise, cross-legged, sighing in relief as well.

"Maybe we should… tell stories to pass the time." Cynthia offered, scratching the back of her head.

"Maybe not bad idea, rel- relee- stop tension," Rye's broken English coming through again.

"Yea, so who wants to go first?" Cody chimed in, sort of okay with the idea.

"Will go first. Want to tell of home in India, and when come here for business," Rhyzel said, looking up. "You see, start with big house, was yellow in color, very spacey and lovely place. Am high class, not mean much now though. Two stories, three childs, and lovely wife. Names were Sabri, Radheya, Jaabir, and Chairaveli. Is from wife to children, boys first. Anyway, was called away to do business with Americans… after plane ride, find place filled with undead. America was infected quickly, almost overnight on plane trip. Surprised not say turn around. Plane quickly turned into meal for zombies, but I fight them off and escape. I wander the streets, searching for safe place, not aware what wife may be doing. Am feeling for her, I do not, eh… like the idea of the disease reaching home. I hide in sewer for awhile before Cody find me. He take me with, meet Cynthia, and we fight for freedom. We no lose, eh?" He smiled, the ending to his story turned happy by his cheery disposition. Made Cody grin too, he had to admit.

((Chapter end. Sorry guys, will finish up their tales in a later chapter.))


End file.
